A week or so ago a fellow mom blogger Soleil Seline emailed me asking if I’d answer five questions for her. I am always incredibly flattered any time anyone other than my mother can spell my name, so I sent off some answers to her, and we have an interview.
What I didn’t expect, what I never could have expected was the kind and generous intro. Go check it out.
When we started dating I was working crappy sales jobs and Mr. G was working crappy production jobs. One of his production jobs was walking through a snake pit, but he was delighted to keep the pants and boots. He wore those pants until they were threadbare. They did look good on him.
*0:50 in is Mr. G’s feet
When I went to Mr. G’s apartment for the first time his mother called. Of course he didn’t answer the phone, and we giggled like children listening to her leaving a message on the answering machine.
Robert. Raaaahhhhbert. Your sister tells me you’re standing in a snake pit all day. Raaaahhhbert I don’t like this Robert. This is not a career. (she punctuated This and Not)
And it was fabulous, because I’d never heard a Long Island accent quite like it before.
So now we fast forward fifteen years and Mr. G is casting for something he’s directing. At dinner he tells us he’s cast a monkey, a rattlesnake and a hundred random snakes. He’s irritated that he can’t get a hundred rattlers.
“Why can’t you get a hundred rattlers?” I asked him.
And then he started talking with his hands, “I don’t know. Some regulations say that you can’t sew their mouths shut anymore. I told the producers that I needed a hundred rattle snakes and they kept coming back to me saying that they could only get one. I explained to them that it’s really easy, all you have to do is milk their venom and sew their mouths shut, it’s one little stitch so they can strike but they can’t bite. I’ve done it. Those snakes launched at me for days.”
I shook my head and lowered my gaze. “So what did you do?”
The kids were rapt as Mr G continued, “I got on the phone with the snake guy and said, ‘listen man, I know you can get me a hundred rattlers. You just milk the venom into this little drum and add a stitch. I don’t need them to bite, but I do need them to strike.’ and he told me that he used to do that but some damn law was passed where you’re not allowed to sew animal’s mouths shut anymore.”
“Even snakes?” I asked.
“Even snakes.” He sadly replied.
We chewed our local free range organic chicken breast in silence, hoping the shot would still be good with non venomous snakes.
My husband says I take terrible pictures. It’s a shame too, because I see beautiful things all day and our camera really is top notch. When Alexander wants to watch YouTube I have him drag his laptop to whatever room we are in, and if it’s the kitchen Sparky delights on reaching counter stools that Junior could never get to. She crouches and stares at the dog letting him know that she can pounce at any moment.
Alexander is just happy both his animals are in the room.
This morning I got out of bed at seven. I didn’t pop out of bed, in fact I’d been laying there for fourteen minutes after twice hitting the snooze button on the alarm. I can sleep for seven more minutes I’d tell myself before drifting back to a dreamless wonderland. Twice.
After a time the alarm clock wins and I get myself out of bed thinking just one more day and then we have two weeks of waking up when our eyes open. Just one more day of this.
I kiss my husband as I do every morning.
I get the kids up and ready for school. Alexander needs a little help with his contact lens this morning. “Let’s work on this,” I say, “because you need to be able to do it yourself if you want to go to summer camp.”
Summercamp is right around the corner and for the first time in twelve and a half years Mr. G and I will have a week alone in our home. We are planning parties otherwise it will feel a little like death.
“Unroll your skirt Jane.” I say because my daughter (rightly) recognizes that her beautiful long legs should be shown off. Schoolteachers and Headmasters will not agree.
We drive to school, they dance out of the car and join their friends for what promises to be a happy day of learning. I retreat to my iphone and stop at the grocery store to find a small cut of beef. Jane has been watching Food Inc yet again and I will make her a gardenburger.
I unpack the groceries, make the beds and head to yoga where I find that I am the only yogi in the restorative class. “My arthritis makes my wrists hurt. Can we do a dolphin pose during the Sun Salutation?” I ask, and the teacher sing songs about it being my practice, and we will both do what works for me.
And after a ninety minute yoga practice I find splendor in the mundane and recognize that I am the luckiest woman in the world.
Jessica Gottlieb is a blogger in Los Angeles who is passionate about the intersection of family life and technology. Continue...
